Adapting to November (both literally and metaphorically;)

 

Nov. .PAD Challenge Day 7. For today's prompt, write an adaptation poem.

I've been drinking in the beauty of leaf song lately!

A weekend of wild winds has winnowed its remnant woo💝

Once more the dirge from leafless limbs through barren belfies peals

Summer and autumn’s harvest hymns of fruit and flower shucked

The gardener admires nature’s ardor as it seals

Its promise with a kiss of seeds ‘neath umber furrows tucked

The blush that once bore roses wears the hasting death of day

Desire turns the other cheek and bears dusk’s dogged woo

For nothing in the world can keep time's westward tug at bay

Darling, to keep believing is the best that we can do

Denial is a futile antidote to steadfast truth

Once more the dirge of leafless hymns ignites a ballad, blue

As cornflowers pressed into sky, or eyes of wizened youth

For all that yet remains to try the sighs of me and you

Once more we brave the welkin trace of fingers without form

And will smiles to our faces while the dirge of autumn plays

A breath stealing ensemble that soon takes the world by storm

As stars and diamonds tremble on the prow of winter days

...that cannot faze the hand of He from whom all mercies flow

That cannot thwart the Deity from whence each season brims

That cannot vex the Giver or His grace whereby we go

Aha, Time's timbers quiver with hope's joy in leafless hymns

© Janet Martin

Compilation of Adaptation

Nov. .PAD Challenge Day 7. For today's prompt, write an adaptation poem.

(This challenge completely slipped my mind this year, until this weekend!)

Happy Monday!

Here's to another page in life's compilation of adaptation,

(a work in constant progress)

We live in a world of whether-change!

Some whethers are like warm and friendly hosts,

others like unwelcome guests!

Forge on, my friend, by the grace of God

He crowns the broken with His beauty!

(like last night's sunset!)

To days gone by none can return

Nor ask for a preview

Of adaptations yet to learn

Where days to years run through

...a flue of love and life run rife

With hellos and goodbyes

No fitting rooms to choose its strife

Or try it on for size

...where it has always been like this

As days to years run through

We learn to adapt to what is

What more, pray, can we do?

...but make the best of what we hold

Lest, in lament we miss

The treasure made of moment-gold

The pleasure in the kiss

The melody twixt Yet and Was

Of holding and release

As Adaptations of Because

Create a masterpiece

While a medley of revisions

With days to years comprise

Adaptation's compilations

Of growing old and wise

The vanity of This and That

Soon slip-slip-slips away

Yet always a fresh welcome mat

Meets us at break of day

..and bids us up and onward through

Adaptation's bequest

While softly days to years undo

The buttons on Soul's vest

With fingers deft and dogged, oh

And whispers that beguile

Beseeching farewells with hello

And teaching tears to smile

Janet Martin

 

Bless the LORD, O my soul!

O LORD my God, You are very great;

You are clothed with splendor and majesty.

2He wraps Himself in light as with a garment;

He stretches out the heavens like a tent,

3laying the beams of His chambers

in the waters above,

making the clouds His chariot,

walking on the wings of the wind...

Psalm 104:1-3

(read the whole spectacular chapter here) 

Today's Centrality

Today is another sunny and still quite mild day

in an especially beautiful fall in southern Ontario!

What we do with Today, no matter the weather 

or whoever or wherever we are,

 has an eternal bearing!

Today matters!

Give us a King- Alistair Begg

  

(The excerpt below is found in the message above)

‘It is interesting that Samuel’s life is marked by long periods of silence, then moments when He comes to the fore. He could not ever come to the fore in such usefulness were it not for the fact that long periods of silence were marked by steady faithfulness. What most of us do in the hum drum nature of our lives, in the private personal way, in the routine activities that are our days, those are the things that make us (and Alistair repeats, ‘those are the things that make us’), and it was certainly so with Samuel.

 

Not what was yesterday or morrow’s yet to be

Today alone requires full responsibility

Today’s centrality twixt past and future set

Is all we ever have wherewith a lifetime to beget

To fret for what is not is gross futility

To work with what today allots is wise humility

To recognize its charge cloaked in the commonplace

To trust God with a thankful heart for His unfailing grace

The place of Here and Now, otherwise called today

In light of what mercies endow, bids us to work and pray

Because today effects accountability

The wise do not neglect/forget this most solemn reality

…that nobody escapes. Prepare to meet Thy God

Let hunger feast upon His Word, to leave us fully awed

Not in morrow’s unknown or Bygone’s beaten path

But in Today, the steppingstone to endless love or wrath

The aftermath of feet stirring Today's brief woo

Inevitably leads to He whose Breath of Life we drew

Where today’s toll unchains links in a sacred cord

Until only the soul remains to receive life’s reward

© Janet Martin

Eccles.12:6

Remember him—before the silver cord is severed, 

and the golden bowl is broken; 

before the pitcher is shattered at the spring,

 and the wheel broken at the well,

Poetic Fulfillment

 Rom.1:20

For since the creation of the world God’s invisible qualities—

his eternal power and divine nature—

have been clearly seen, being understood from what has been made, 

so that people are without excuse.

We shall not want for wonder where the font of nature spills

In fine four-season splendor, to woodlands and fields and hills

The Author of the poetry from which earth’s poets drink

Transcends human periphery confined to page and ink

Without a word He quiets us, without a word He pens

The poetry that silences pride’s pompous clucking hens

We shall not want for wisdom in the prose of Deity

The birds are fed, the lily clothes the field in royalty

The penmanship of earth and sky births reverence unflawed

By mortal boast; our worth the offspring of love’s breath of God

While we dip quills into a wellspring rife with the design

Of branches learning how to cling to the Life-giving Vine

We shall not want for worship while we read the works of He

Who is faithful and perfect though often reviled by we

Who ought to bow the knee and confess with ardent acclaim

The Saviour of Humanity who knows us all by name

He is loving and good, a world of wordless poems spells

His nature clearly understood by what creation tells

© Janet Martin

Surrender's Sacred Sup

He awakens Me morning by morning,

He awakens My ear

To hear as the learned.

Isa.50:4

From welkin wells a love song swells

In torrents unrestrained

As mercy spills and grace refills

The cup that twilight drained

As hope renewed and gratitude

Mingle in sweet accord

To join the hymn where heavens brim

With whispers of our Lord

As we lift eyes beyond the ties

Of duty and decay

To He who writes on welkin heights

The Love Song of Today

From welkin wells a love song swells

In perfect harmony

As mercy spills and grace refills

Cups of mortality

As goodness grants deliverance

Today’s ‘Never Before’

Unveils a feast upon the east

Gaze is a troubadour

Joy is reborn, from morn to morn

God wakens us to heed

His Faithfulness: He promises

To satisfy our need

From welkin wells a love song swells

Surrender’s sacred sup

As mercy spills and grace refills

The cup that faith lifts up

© Janet Martin

Lam.3:22-27

Through the Lord’s mercies we are not consumed,

Because His compassions fail not.

23They are new every morning;

Great is Your faithfulness.

24“The Lord is my portion,” says my soul,

“Therefore I hope in Him!”

25The Lord is good to those who wait for Him,

To the soul who seeks Him.

26It is good that one should hope and wait quietly

For the salvation of the Lord.

27It is good for a man to bear

The yoke in his youth.

November Ballad

A few frames of the first four days of November...

I penned the first stanza on Monday, a blustery, rainy harbinger

to a gorgeous, sunny week that somehow 

*pulled its carpet out from under me before 

I had a chance to return to assemble the lines playing a ballad in my heart!

Instead of its original intent of October farewell

it turned into a November welcome!

below, a few 'carpet-tatters'😅

Leaf-decoupage decks rain-washed walks and lanes

Yard is a bed with crinkled counterpanes

Hearth is aflicker with fizzles and sputs 

Blue jay-bullies bicker, squirrel gathers nuts

And on yonder slope where corn tassels tossed

Umber furrows glisten with tinsel of frost

Garden-plots slumber until it is spring

Last squash and pumpkins are all gathered in

Shiny red chestnuts shed prickly, brown coats

River is dappled with fleets of leaf boats

Woodland is winnowed of whisper and sigh

Leaf awnings lower to let in the sky

Day breaks through molds of gold and amethyst

Landscapes are lavished with murmurs of mist

Wind choreographs lone-leaf pirouettes

Dusk, a brusque backdrop for stark silhouettes

Etched on a skyline of shiver and brr

Earth, like a deserted amphitheater

…After the crowds saw what they came to see

Quietness thunders with chick-a-dee-dee

After the rustling and rushing of feet

Silence amplifies echoes, bittersweet

As if a season of laughter and play

Was raked into heaps and trundled away

...while new generations learn toil's ethics 

Simple as helping to load leaves and sticks

Feeling the fervor of favor's delight

Of honest labor's hearty appetite 

Earning the happiness of high fives won (or in this case, jelly beans)

Tasting the sweetness of a job well done

November nips at hearts, noses and ears

While we come to grips with the blip of years

Tuning a tug of war, hold-and-release

Painting a minimalist’s masterpiece

After a palette of color, windblown

November showcases russet and brown

© Janet Martin

my childcare-tots inspired this stanza.... they were SO happy to help!

...while new generations learn toil's ethics 

Simple as helping to load leaves and sticks

Feeling the fervor of favor's delight

Of honest labor's hearty appetite 

Earning the happiness of high fives won

Tasting the sweetness of a job well done

I lamented to Little Lad about how

we were raking up one of my very favorite sounds in the world...

the rustle of leaves under feet!

So, he accommodated my suggestion of 'saving the sound'💖

Three Word Wonderment

Lest we get consumed by doom and gloom headlines...

by dread and doubt,

A reminder of everlasting truth inspiring utter thankfulness

 The Ray that rends night's sky...

This is no vain cliché

Of insignificance

This washes our sins away

With sacred sufferance

This is ‘Never Alone’

The anchor for the soul

Goodness and mercy’s cornerstone

For faith to be made whole

This is no common phrase

To hear then disregard

This is the strength for our days

Through Hands, faithful and scarred

This is God's kiss unfurled

Salvation’s origin

This is life to a dying world

To break the curse of sin

This is no utterance

Of meritless acclaim

This is creation’s countenance

The power in God’s name

Beauty that never dies

Wonder that cannot cease

The covenant that satisfies

The crux of perfect peace

The shelter of a Wing

While wild, time’s tempests toss

The comfort in our suffering

The glory of the cross

The bedrock of belief

Courage to face the foe

The solace in our pain and grief

The grace whereby we go

The sweetness in our song

The dawning of delight

The happiness when things go wrong

The armor for the fight

That which does not forsake

To cheer us on and up

The worth in every breath we take

The sparkle in life’s cup

The Ray that rends night's sky

The Voice that calms our dread

The Law no law can nullify

The scapegoat in our stead

This is our joy complete 

No void of want contends

This is Enough for all we meet

Nothing this Truth transcends

This is no trite maxim

No hollow platitude

This is a Light that cannot dim

The heart of gratitude

A boundless sympathy

Beneath, around, above

The hope of all humanity

In three words ‘God is love’

© Janet Martin

Because God is love

1 John 4:8  

Happy 80th birthday, Mom

 

With the circle still unbroken,

(Mom and Dad and all ten children with our spouses,)

our 80th birthday celebration for dear Mother on Sunday

was precious indeed!

Numbers 6:24-26

The LORD bless thee, and keep thee:

25The LORD make his face shine upon thee, and be gracious unto thee:

26The LORD lift up his countenance upon thee and give thee peace.

The laundry lines you filled would reach up to the moon and back

And we could build skyscrapers with dishes, washed, dried and stacked 

The meals, prepared with thoughtful, loving labor, by God’s grace

Would humble us immensely if gathered into one place

Thank-you mom, for your diligence in ‘training up a child’

While we outgrew dresses and shoes, while days-to-years ran wild

While we would laugh and work and play and learn to humbly pray

To our Father up in Heaven to guide us each day

You taught us how to find joy in earth’s beauty, grand and free

Though busy you were never blind to God-penned poetry

You showed us (not just told us) when there was a task to learn

You took the time to read or pause to watch the seasons turn

You never did complain (or if you did I don’t recall)

A helpmeet for your husband and a mother to us all

With love enough to go around with never one left out

Love was the priceless plenty we never had cause to doubt

What happy days of childhood from heedless innocence slipped

From ‘now I lay me down to sleep’ to prayers without a script

From ‘Goodnight, yes, I’ll leave the hall light on, at least for now

(Unless the talker talked too long and laugher laughed too loud!)

Dear mom, I want to thank you, for too often I forgot

And simply took for granted tasty meals, healthy and hot

And work-worn hands that did not eat the bread of idleness

But tended to duty’s demands with cheerful faithfulness

I’m thankful for God’s love that has allotted eighty years

‘The multitude of sins’ you covered with your prayers and tears

And for the treasured memories that sparkle in a trove

Where surely the greatest of these is our sweet mother’s love

I pray each day for God to bless and keep you in his care

That come what may you sense the power of His presence there

I thank Him for the gift of a mother who read His Word

And let us by example with devotion undeterred

Happy eightieth Birthday, may the year ahead be blessed

With God’s mercies and if He wills, with health and happiness

Happy eightieth birthday, as your numbered days decrease/increase

May they be overflowing with God’s love and joy and peace

© Janet Martin

Psalm 71:18

Now also when I am old and grayheaded,

O God, forsake me not;

until I have shewed thy strength unto this generation,

and thy power to every one that is to come.

Psalm 37:25-26

I once was young and now am old,

yet never have I seen the righteous abandoned

or their children begging for bread.

26They are ever generous and quick to lend,

and their children are a blessing.

Psalm 90:12

Teach us to number our days,

that we may gain a heart of wisdom.